


The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To

by wirewrappedlily



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a lot to be said for the pain of knowing what you do and do not deserve, Harry Hart reflects in his darkness. </p><p>He deserves the dark. He deserves the cold, or the heat, of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To

There's a hand reaching for his in the darkness. He can't see it, but he can feel it. He knows it's there; knows who it belongs to. Knows why it's reaching for him. He wants it to draw him back; he wants to take a breath, then another, until he's come back from the dead like Lazarus. He wants to open his eyes and _see_. 

There's a lot to be said for the pain of knowing what you do and do not deserve, Harry Hart reflects in his darkness. 

He deserves the dark. He deserves the cold, or the heat, of Hell. 

He does not deserve another chance to make things right with Eggsy. He's squandered his chances. First leaving the boy alone for seventeen years. Leaving him to a hell that the brilliant, brave, beautiful boy does not deserve and will never deserve. Then he left him once again, standing in front of Mr. Pickles thinking that he'd squandered the chance he'd been given; that Harry's the only way he'll get another. It's not true. Harry will do whatever it takes to give him as many chances as he needs, but it's Eggsy that will be the one to make them worth it. 

The sentimentality and irony of it does not escape him; leaving Eggsy in guilt and disappointment for having the heart to not pull the trigger--proving, yet again, that Harry's sentimentality does not extend as it should. He feels like he's pulled a trigger on Eggsy, and the thought of it makes him want to be sick, even more than the blood that stained his hands outside that church. 

He does not deserve another chance; but what would he do with it? 

He likes to think that he's a good man, over all. That he'd do right by Eggsy now, after seventeen years of doing nothing and it all being wrong. 

He thinks he'd drive Eggsy's step-father and his band of thugs round the twist with his chance: make sport of taking them apart. He'd get Michelle Unwin and her daughter somewhere safe, and make sure that they were taken care of. 

He should have made sure that Eggsy had been taken care of. 

If he could go back, what would he do with the chance that would afford him?

What was he doing for seventeen years that had kept him from properly honouring Lee Unwin's sacrifice? 

He was a Kingsman agent, but in the downtime he'd had, why hadn't he gone to see the boy? No answer comes--not a satisfactory answer, anyway. 

He can picture himself a fairygodfather, in the wings of Eggsy's life, watching him grow and helping silently but presently. 

The Eggsy that has come from those seventeen years he would not ever trade for another, though. He loves Eggsy, he knew this when he sat back down to his pint, and he knows this in the blackness, with that hand reaching for him. 

He loves Eggsy, even though it is not fair, nor proper, for him to do so. He loves Eggsy because of who he is: the kid off the street that no one would think capable of reading through eight first editions to a comatose mentor; the boy who makes a friend of a competitor and helps her to beat all odds; the man who grins like he's never faced horror in the abusive nature of someone meant to shelter him. 

It is not right, his love. But he loves anyway. 

He reaches back for that hand, hoping he has the strength to keep hold of it; to resist when it gets easier to let go than it will be to hold on. 

He wonders if he'll be given another chance. Because he will ask if he may have one, this time. 

Harry Hart opens his eyes to blinding, bright white with a hand clutching his, and if there is only one more chance for an old man, he _will_ make this one count.


End file.
